


Funny

by dazedog (Ayanon)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person, Undertale Genocide Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-11-05 02:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11004492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayanon/pseuds/dazedog
Summary: The hours between Papyrus' death and the battle with Frisk.





	1. Chapter 1

It's kind of funny, isn't it?  
  
One day your brother is sitting next to you on the couch (unknowingly on yet another sock you hadn't bothered to pick up) trying to solve the Junior Jumble, the next he gets stomped on by a tiny human foot.  
  
And you weren't even there. You arrived too late, greeted by the view of the human looking down with a detached expression on Papyrus skull. It was not hard to guess what had happened. Pap had always been too brave – and too kind.  
  
Maybe you could have tried to stop him from facing the kid but Papyrus would have given you a disapproving look for that and said something along the lines of "of course it has to be me who stops the human, brother! I'm the Great Papyrus!" like that was a reason to stand in the way of a mass-murdering psycho dedicated to turning everyone's lives to hell. Not that it mattered now.  
  
You kick the snow in front of what's left of him with your foot, fists clenched in your pockets so hard your knuckles crack as if it could make this feel more real.  
  
What do you call a skeleton that bit the dust?  
  
You don't have a pun for that. Maybe your friend over at the Ruins had one, but something about the look of the human (or demon or whatever it is) and the silence that had met you this morning tells you that you won't hear a pun from her for a while. You wonder if she would have told you not to harm the human if she had known that this would happen. Good call, lady.  
  
You would laugh if it weren't for the fact that you can't move your body at all. You can just stand and look around until your gaze ends up wandering to your brother and gets stuck there yet again.  
  
The wind has blown parts of his remains away, some of it in your direction.  
  
What part of Papyrus are you stepping on right now?  
  
The thought causes the world around you to spin, so you finally manage to snap yourself out of it and turn around to make your way back to the town.  
  
  
Word of a merciless killer murdering everything in sight had spread fast, so most monsters have fled by now.  
  
You are glad for it as it would have been awkward trying to explain that you had been staring at your brother's clothes for about an hour and just left him behind. (it's not your brother any more. It's just a pile of dust like the other ones. You're not sure if that makes it better or worse)  
  
Maybe someone else will pick it up and put it away when all of this is over.  
  
This will be over, one way or another.  
  
Right now you're content to wait.  
  
  
You move an unsolved puzzle to the side to sit on the couch.  
  
There must be upsides to the situation. At least you won't have to worry about finding a way to pay the car Papyrus had dreamt of.  
  
Maybe you should throw his things out because they're no use any more. Undyne likely would throw you out for that, too. After trying to murder you, that is.  
  
Maybe you can get on Grillby's nerves so much that he'll set your house on fire. You remember that one time shortly before closing hour where you had pestered him so much that he almost burned you. Well, he would have, if you hadn't taken cover behind the jukebox. No one had been able to fix it after that. You also hadn't done anything to provoke him again. Annoying Grillby would be too much work, though. More likely he would ask what's wrong and the only thing that would make this situation more annoying (because that's what this situation is. Annoying. Just... annoying) would be having to explain.  
  
You snort once you realize what you have been thinking. Now you're getting dramatic.  
  
That's ridiculous.  
  
There's a knock on the door.  
  
  
It's Undyne. She is holding Papyrus' scarf in her hands.  
  
  
You had anticipated that she would break the table or the couch in a fit of rage but she just stands still, staring at you like she's trying to guess if you're trying to fool her. You just smile, which seems to make her angry. She says nothing, though, just “I'll kill the human.”  
  
You don't tell her that you did nothing to stop the kid. It's not hard to imagine the look on her face, however – like you killed Papyrus yourself.  
  
That's kind of funny.  
  
  
You notice the glint of tears in her eyes when you wish her good luck and tell her to give the kid a beating from you. Somehow it's far worse than her trying to murder you.  
  
She stomps out, kicking the sock with the sticky note into a corner. You're too tired to laugh.  
  
Undyne will kill them.  
  
Probably.  
  
Maybe.  
  
The slight feeling of dread that you know what is going to happen gets harder to ignore.  
  
You don't want to know why.  
  
  
It's time to visit the Waterfall station. You walk right past it.  
  
  
The kid is humming a little tune with Shyren who doesn't seem to have noticed the dust coating their clothes, most likely because she was too shy to really look at them. You probably should step in and end the brat's miserable life, but you don't.  
  
You can't. Not yet.  
  
You'd made a promise. It's a good excuse.  
  
The child tries to cut Shy's head off and you can't help but let out a snicker as they fail to murder her.  
  
Shy tries to escape but the second hit finishes her off.  
  
The laughter gets stuck in your throat.  
  
  
When you open your eyes again the first thing you see is the sock in the corner. The sticky note is still on it. Perhaps you can raise another self-sustaining tornado once the sock pile gets high enough.  
  
Papyrus' scarf is lying on the table. The first thought that crosses your mind is to throw it away.  
  
Another wave of nausea hits you so before you can get any more bad ideas you stumble to the door and out of the house.  
  
  
Grillby's new place is a little more rustic but you are too busy being impressed (albeit not surprised) that he seems to have taken half his stock with him.  
  
Some monsters are trying to start conversations about normal topics.  
  
No one talks about the missing monsters.  
  
Grillby sets a ketchup bottle on the rather small counter as you hear someone say that they want to build something new when this is done. You want to suggest that maybe they just need to shake a little dust off, but they wouldn't find that funny, so you shrug and say that's nice.  
  
He said when the human will be killed  
  
when, not if  
  
you're too lazy to think of the future  
  
You make the mistake of looking at Grillby.  
  
"What's so funny?" he asks.  
  
"Everything."  
  
It sounds better than "I just stepped on my brother and he will never tell me to pick up my socks again.”  
  
Grillby stops polishing his glass.  
  
Ah, there it comes. You don't need to hear the question to know what he wants to ask.  
  
“What's wrong, Sans?”  
  
You take the ketchup bottle and smile.  
  
It's not like you can do anything else.  
  
  
There's a spot of old spaghetti sauce on your couch. You have been studying it for a while now, like it's going to tell you a secret or contains a message from your brother.  
  
The codes.  
  
  
The key to your lab seems heavier than you remember, but it's not as bad as the numb feeling in your legs so you ignore the weight as you turn it in the keyhole.  
  
  
How did you forget what you had been working on for so long?  
  
You are at your desk before the light can turn on, fetching all the notes and papers from the drawer.  
  
Not even bothering to sort them you spread them out on the tile floor and sit in front of them.  
  
  
Codes. Signs. Your gaze flickers over the pages, trying to make sense of the writing.  
  
No, you knew what this meant. It was easy. You'd read it so many times. Heck, you'd written half of it. It was – it meant –  
  
You don't know.  
  
You go over them in your head.  
  
It's like someone has erased your ability to form words. You understand what they are about however the actual meaning escapes you. You know the letters but can't order them to create words.  
  
  
You don't know how much time you've spent here by now. It might have been hours, maybe days.  
  
It doesn't matter. You just have to understand.  
  
Then everything will make sense again.  
  
Every time you think you almost understand the memories seem so slip away again, as if someone erased them as soon as they formed.  
  
Papyrus would chide you for forgetting everything else but your work (how ironic) but he isn't here so you continue.  
  
  
You do stop one time and think about the other monsters. Maybe the kid killed them. You should care about that but you don't.  
  
Undyne would be angry if she knew that. She would say you're useless  
  
Which you are  
  
You didn't even pick up the sock  
  
No one's going to care about that sock  
  
You have a machine to fix.  
  
  
The only clock in the room doesn't work properly any more but you must have been here for quite some time.  
  
You kind of want to stop. Probably because you should try to off the child out there leaving a trail of dust behind them.  
  
But you can't.  
  
You have to do this first.  
  
Maybe you can undo everything.  
  
It's coming back, bits and pieces you can't place but they are there and you feel excited even though Papyrus is dead and half the Underground is covered in dust  
  
You almost got it  
  
You have never before come so far  
  
Have you?  
  
  
There are screws and tools all over the floor. You accidentally knock over a box and the contents spill out of it.  
  
You pay them no mind and step back, eyes fixated on the machine. These screws can screw themselves  
  
This must be it.  
  
It has to work.  
  
  
You flip the switch.  
  
  
The machine starts to rattle and the lights turn on.  
  
Numbers and symbols start appearing on the screen.  
  
You press the LOAD button.  
  
Nothing happens.  
  
But you remember.  
  
Not everything but enough.  
  
You start laughing.  
  
You try to stay on your feet but you shake so hard that you buckle over and land on your knees. You want to stop, but you can only gasp for air while clutching the jacket above your ribs.  
  
When you finally manage to calm down you lean back until you can feel the cold metal against your head and close your eyes.  
  
The machine is useless. Worse than useless.  
  
Gaster. His name is, no, was Gaster and you worked on this and then he fell and he died and everyone forgot, even you – even you – and you tried to LOAD and save him but you couldn't  
  
Something important is missing.  
  
DETERMINATION.  
  
Gaster used it. He tried to SAVE himself. Of course he did it alone, he always did, only giving you scraps of information after everything was done and over. Always the best scientist, always one step ahead.  
  
Well, seeing as you forgot about him something must have went awry.  
  
You try to picture him in your head. It doesn't work. There are bits of memories but otherwise... Nothing. Like someone destroyed your memory and replaced it with nothing but darkness.  
  
Maybe you have gone insane.  
  
You look at a scrap of paper next to you.  
  
Don't forget.  
  
You wrote it back then, but you still did.  
  
Even though the note was SAVEd.  
  
  
Gaster tried to SAVE himself. Instead he broke the timeline. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe something different happened. Not that knowing anything of it would save you now.  
  
Another look tells you something else.  
  
The machine's readings never showed this kind of activity before.  
  
That's strange.  
  
If the machine broke your timeline -  
  
No, that's not it. The timelines stop. Not just this one. All of them.  
  
For the first time in ages you feel fear.  
  
  
You need to take another break.  
  
  
You come to find that the humming of the machine is kind of relaxing. It drowns out the ticking of the clock and slows down the thoughts that spin in your head. Papyrus can't be saved. Not by you. There is only one person who can help you. And that person is a murderer.  
  
It's exhausting. Thinking is exhausting.  
  
With the soft sound of the now useless machine running and memories that do not quite reach your mind you can almost pretend that everything is fine.  
  
  
After what might have been hours you open your eyes again.  
  
You get up.  
  
There is something you have to do.


	2. Illustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I drew this as a cover, though I didn't think it fit to include it in the story itself.

The cover for this story. It actually began with this.

(I hope posting this separately is not against the rules. Please tell me if it is – I will remove it)

  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first actual fanfic. I hope the style I used for this was not too disjointed to read - I believed that this fit the most for Sans, though.
> 
> Constructive criticism would be nice. I am very sure there are mistakes in there as I am not a native English speaker. I will fix them if you tell me where they are. Thank you for reading.


End file.
